


That Which Persists

by madartiste



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: AU, Angst, Brainwashing, Dadgil Week (Devil May Cry), Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Gen, brief non-graphic torture, injured child
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2021-01-04 12:56:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21198020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madartiste/pseuds/madartiste
Summary: When Nelo Angelo begins to rebell again, Mundus thinks he's found the perfect leash in the form of Vergil's young son.  Luckily, he wholly underestimates the strength of Nelo Angelo's human heart, and, for the first time since he fell, Vergil starts to remember.  (Written for Dadgil week on Twitter.)





	1. Pride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mundus' gifts are never quite what they seem.

It wasn't uncommon for Mundus to summon his general for an audience. Whenever the Emperor had a task to be performed, an enemy to slay, a message to deliver, or sometimes both at once, Nelo Angelo would feel an oily tug at the back of his mind. It was useless to disobey, so he never did. Master's desires were all that mattered here in the Underworld.

What _was_ uncommon, however, was to find the hallway leading into Mundus' chamber lined with demons leering in anticipation. His steps faltered, something he knew they saw by the unrestrained snickering, but Nelo Angelo was never one to tolerate their defiance. All it took was an icy red stare to send them scuttling back into the shadows.

Or most of them, anyway.

The blonde demoness whose face made the back of his skull ache in fiery forgetfulness smirked and bowed politely. She always minded her manners at least.

"Master Mundus has been waiting for you," Trish said, waving a hand to the partially open doorway as if Nelo Angelo needed her invitation. He chose to ignore her but was privately irked when she followed him in. 

Floors polished to perfection reflected his helmed visage back at him, cutting an impressive figure as he strode across the grand hall toward the towering god-like figure on the throne. _This_ Nelo Angelo was expecting. Finding the chamber packed to the brim with even more demons than were out in the hall, on the other hand, was concerning. He kept his steps even this time, no sign of weakness to exploit.

Nelo Angelo knelt some distance away because his usual place of supplication was occupied by a gaggle of Blades surrounding and poking at some tiny, protesting thing that curled up on the ground. He only caught sparing glimpses of it in between their shifting legs and wondered just what all this was for. As much as Master Mundus delighted in the suffering of others, he preferred to mete out punishment by his own hand rather than leave such amusement to his minions.

"Ah, you have arrived," Mundus boomed. "Nelo Angelo, my most powerful servant, I have a gift for you."

He couldn't stop the slight jerk of his head. Rewards were commonplace for those who performed well, but a _gift_ was often not a good thing. Suspicion coiled in his gut. He didn't respond.

"I have sensed a certain restlessness in you these past months, and I have grown worried you are no longer satisfied with your situation here," Mundus said. Nelo Angelo forced himself to stay still. "In order to express my pleasure for all these years of loyalty you have given me, I thought it right to offer you a token. This is for you." The cackling demons in front of him suddenly went quiet and hurriedly slunk into the periphery where the others watched.

Hunched there on the marble floor was a tiny creature dressed in tattered clothes. The little beast lifted its head tentatively, blinking pale eyes and still shrinking from the demons packed in every corner of the room. That mop of silver-white hair bounced when it flinched away from a Fetish that ventured a little too close before it scuttled back into the shadows. Nelo Angelo inhaled cautiously and caught the overwhelming reek of fear. And of human.

_What is this_?

"_This_ is yours," Mundus purred, perhaps reading Nelo Angelo's very thoughts. "This is your spawn. Your…" The demon king paused while hunting for a neglected word. "Your son."

Impossible. Wasn't it? Nelo Angelo was made by Master Mundus, crafted from the leftover pieces of a weak enemy into something superior. For him to have an offspring seemed preposterous, but...

Something deep in the back of his mind, living in the same space as the missing name that Trish conjured by her very existence, bubbled longingly.

"Truly, he is a pathetic being as he is, so hindered by his human blood," Mundus carried on, "but I trust in your great skills as a warrior. You will forge him into a mighty champion just as I did you, one who can stand proudly at your side in service to me."

Nelo Angelo stared at the fragile creature that was cowering in front of him, gazing back with those big, familiar blue eyes. How was he expected to make _that_ into anything but a morsel for the lowest of demons? Something so feeble needed to be sheltered, protected, not thrown out into the merciless battlefields of the Underworld at the Emperor's behest. The very concept pricked at his honor and threatened to upend something buried under calcified layers of devotion. 

"Do you not see yourself up to the task?" Mundus' question burned him with doubt, and Nelo Angelo grit his teeth.

"I can do this, Master," he said with a rough, seldom used voice. "I will not fail you."

A rumble of laughter shook the room, sending Nelo Angelo's son curling into a tight little ball with a squeak.

"See that you don't," the Emperor warned. "For it won't be you that reaps the consequences."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably going to be a rather loose and fluffy work, though definitely with some angst. I know this is hardly a new idea for an AU, but I really wanted to try my hand at it anyway. I hope you enjoy!


	2. Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nelo Angelo starts to come to terms with his new responsibilities, and Nero has trouble sleeping.

His son weighed practically nothing in his arms. Nelo Angelo was unsure what a normal human child's physique should be like, but the boy's frailty alarmed him. How was he supposed to turn something like this into a warrior? It--_ he_ seemed more likely to fall apart if looked at too hard. Master's orders were madness.

On the other hand, the little thing had a surprisingly fierce grip even though he was exhausted, clinging hard to Nelo Angelo's gorget with nimble fingers. It was possible that the boy's potential for strength had caught Master's attention. Or more likely it was his relation to Nelo Angelo and the chance for a firmer hold on his allegiances that made Mundus want him so badly. What a dreadful position for someone so young to be in.

The boy's head bobbed slightly, drawing Nelo Angelo's gaze, and the blue eyes flickered against his fatigue. It seemed that rest was the place to start if Nelo Angelo wanted to succeed in his mission. At least it would give him some time to plan how to accomplish this nonsense.

At the top of the castle was the Castellan's old bedroom, dilapidated but still usable and most often ignored by the demons of the island. Nelo Angelo had little to do when not called upon by the Emperor, so he often came here to while away those indolent hours. As a result, he'd already made the room his in what little sense he could, and it was as appropriate a place as any to house his new responsibility.

Transferring the boy to one arm, Nelo Angelo pushed open one of the double doors and stepped inside. He crossed the room in a few long strides and dropped the child on the bed. Then they stared at each other.

Was there something else he was supposed to do? Was his offspring too young to understand the implication? No, even baby animals had enough instincts to know they should sleep when they were tired, but perhaps the child didn't feel safe?

"I will keep watch," Nelo Angelo offered.

The boy flinched, clutching the bed covers in anxious hands.

"No one else will enter," he tried again. _Probably_. The demons did tend to act out of character when something new crossed their paths, and this child was certainly enough to get them interested. Still, there were few stupid enough to cross Mundus' favorite general.

The boy sniffled and kept staring.

Oh. Perhaps he found the armor off putting. He _was _mostly human and being surrounded by demons was likely to make him cautious. If seeing someone that at least appeared a bit more like himself would calm the boy enough to rest, that was an easy thing to provide. Nelo Angelo released the catches that held his helmet in place and pulled it off.

The change was immediate, watery eyes going wide and sweeping over his face. "You're not a demon?" said a small, high voice.

"I am a demon," Nelo Angelo corrected. "Mostly."

"Oh." That tiny mouth pursed thoughtfully. The stench of fear was still strong, but there was a certain amount of calculation going on in the boy's expression. "I'm Nero. Are you really my father?"

"Master Mundus says it is so," he replied.

Amazement washed over Nero's face, and he sat up a bit straighter with his legs tucked under him. "You're gonna teach me to fight? Like the knights do?"

"That is my charge, yes." Though Nelo Angelo was unsure precisely what knights his son was referring to.

Nero bit his lip, still studying the man before him. "Do you… fight bad guys? Like bad demons?"

It was an inane question, and one that Nelo Angelo should answer honestly to disabuse the child of any tender notions about his future. But. Nero looked so _hopeful_ and trusting. Nelo Angelo found himself strangely loath to damage the boy's naivete. Perhaps later, when things were less fraught, they could discuss it in depth. Nero would sleep better with a clear conscience.

"You should rest while you can," Nelo Angelo said instead.

Nero glanced at the bed skeptically. It had been a long time since Nelo Angelo had to consider anything as mundane as 'comfort,' but he supposed Nero would require greater care until he was a little older and sturdier. The room could probably do with some new furnishings and certainly new linens. He might be able to find new drapes for the windows too if he--

"Why did you leave me?"

Startled out of his planning, Nelo Angelo glanced back to the boy in confusion. Nero wouldn't meet his eyes. "I never left you," he said. "I didn't know you existed until today."

"Oh." The child slumped there on the bed, still not looking at his father.

"You should rest," Nelo Angelo tried again. The sudden despondency nettled him for reasons he didn't understand.

"I'm not tired," Nero muttered.

That was obviously false. "You are exhausted, and if you don't sleep you will be unable to…"

To do what? Nelo Angelo still wasn't clear on precisely what Master expected. What would Nero specifically be doing? Combat? Infiltrating the human world? Possibly an ambassador that would be easy for Mundus’ enemies to underestimate? There were too many unknowns but asking for clarification would be inviting unwanted scrutiny or censure.

"Will you stay with me?"

Nelo Angelo considered it. Other than training the boy, Master Mundus had given no other directives, so he was free to do as he liked so long as he worked toward accomplishing his vague mission. "If you wish."

Nero quickly crawled toward the head of the bed and curled up into a small ball. The more than ample space he left, and the wide-eyed stare were an obvious invitation, but he frowned when Nelo Angelo lay down beside him.

"Isn't your armor hard to sleep in?" Nero asked.

"I don't need sleep." Honest, if evasive. Nelo Angelo _did_ often indulge when he had nothing else to pass the time. He hated being bored even more than he did being idle.

The boy's little face scrunched up. "Everyone needs sleep… Don't they?" Nero lifted his head to look at him. "Is it 'cause you're mostly a demon?"

"Yes, and you are _not_," Nelo Angelo reminded him. "You must sleep." 

"Right." Nero didn't close his eyes. "When you finish training me, will I not need to sleep either?"

Nelo Angelo sighed quietly. "Possibly, but if you don't sleep now, I won't train you."

"Oh, okay." Nero crawled the short distance across the bed, and Nelo Angelo was about to scold him for procrastinating when the boy settled himself much closer, though not touching, and finally closed his eyes. "G'd night," Nero whispered, burrowing into the faded bedding.

It wasn't technically night on the island, but Nelo Angelo supposed this was more ritual than factual. "Good night," he said quietly, folding his hands over his stomach and wondering how long he would be waiting. How much sleep did young humans need anyway? Perhaps he needed to visit the library in case there was a book that might tell him more about child development. There were so many questions, and it was highly unlikely that any of the demons on the island would have answers.

Nero's breathing deepened, and his heartbeat slowed. Alert, Nelo Angelo turned toward him. Was this normal? It seemed like it should be. The boy's pulse had dropped, but not drastically, and he didn't seem to be in any distress. No, he was certainly asleep judging by the stillness and soft little sighs escaping his lips.

Quiet at last. How could something so small be so distracting? Now maybe Nelo Angelo could start working out what he was going to do. He couldn't get very far right at this moment, not without knowing more, but having a _plan_ always made him feel much better. Designing a training regimen would occupy him for quite some time, and then there would need to be supervised exercises, weapon practice and sparing, physical endurance drilling… 

Nelo Angelo watched Nero's slow, even breathing, how it made his chest rise and fall, and thought again how small this boy was. Did Master Mundus really expect Nero to become a warrior like this, or would Nero be subjected to the same treatments that Nelo Angelo had to make him into something suitable? A thin thread of unease wormed into his stomach and clenched his jaw, and he realized how unpalatable the idea was. 

Still, if it was Master's wish, then it would be done whether Nelo Angelo cared for it or not. There was the possibility that if Nero worked hard enough at his training, they could avoid any unpleasantness, so Nelo Angelo would have to provide the boy with every opportunity to improve himself in a more natural, and hopefully less agonizing, way.

Oblivious to what potentially lay in store for him, Nero slept on, a gentle smile curving his mouth, and Nelo Angelo felt his own lips turning up without consciously allowing it. The boy was, dare he say it, _cute_ even if he was disruptive. The absurdity of the situation was still sticking with him, but he also found the thought that this feeble creature was his child far less objectionable than he thought he would. 

Perhaps… this wouldn't be so bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: Okay, so I think I made a mistake when I set this story up as a draft since it doesn't seem to be registering the additions to the chapters correctly. It's still saying I only edited it yesterday even though I clearly added a chapter today. I'll see about correcting that going forward and maybe... not use the draft feature ever again.


	3. Favorite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nero wants to learn more about his father. Nelo Angelo has more to say than he thought he would.

Time wasn't something that demons counted, not the way that humans did with clocks and calendars and anniversaries, but Nelo Angelo found himself noting the rising and setting of the sun if just to provide his charge with some semblance of structure. It seemed the former Castellan hadn't taken much of an interest in child rearing, but Nelo Angelo did discover one tome in the library insisting that discipline and routine were good for young humans. He suspected that much of the advice was out of date, especially the suggestion for only allowing them to fraternize with peers of the same social standing, but Nero was doing remarkably well with the consistency.

It was only because of this that Nelo Angelo knew two weeks had passed, and Nero was already making good progress in his training. Proper combat lessons were out of the question with his tiny body and spindly physique, but the boy enjoyed physical exertion to a surprising extent. In fact, he seemed so set on reaching the goals Nelo Angelo set out for him that he often worked himself into exhaustion long before evening.

Afternoon naps became part of the schedule very quickly, as did finding ways to distract his son long enough for him to recover before they continued with a new drill. The incessant questions finally proved to have some strategic value even if they often made Nelo Angelo curiously unbalanced.

"How old are you?" Nero asked, sitting on the floor and following the stretching exercises as best his short limbs would allow.

"I don't know," Nelo Angelo answered.

Nero just nodded and folded himself over one of his legs and reached for his toes. "I don't know my age either. Well, not exactly. I think I'm eight."

That number resonated inside him, and Nelo Angelo tried not to frown. He had never been very expressive, but the ever-present helmet hid those moments when he slipped. The boy greatly preferred seeing his face, however, so now he was without his fallback shield.

"Is Nelo Angelo really your name?" Nero continued.

"Yes." He wondered at the odd spike in his chest. He was being honest, so why did it feel deceitful?

"Oh." His son was contemplative, and Nelo Angelo waited for the inevitable follow-up. "Is Angelo our family name? Am I Nero Angelo?"

He didn't expect the question to strike him so hard, and Nelo Angelo had to force his fingers to unclench. "No."

"Oh." A note of disappointment carried through the short word, but Nero wasn't long deterred. "What's your favorite color?"

Nelo Angelo blinked. "My… what?"

"You know, _ color _." Nero glanced up at him, head tilted awkwardly and parallel to the floor.

"Ah…" This should be simple, really. Nelo Angelo didn't have a preference. There wasn't much of a point when he hardly had any-- "Blue."

He stared at Nero, unsure of why he'd said such a thing while knowing it was truthful.

Nero grinned at him. "I like blue too! And red. And purple. Because that's blue plus red." The boy looked pleased with himself for sharing his chromatic knowledge. He shifted to stretching his other leg. "What's your favorite ice cream?"

This too he should have answered without a preference, but a flavor pushed itself into the back of his mind insistently, coating his tongue with a memory. Nelo Angelo swallowed. "Chocolate."

"Chocolate is really good," Nero agreed. "My favorite is the one with chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry. Granny Xista says that's called 'Neapolitan' in America."

"I see." 

Nero sat up and stretched his arms over his head. "Do you have any friends here?"

"The other denizens of the island are all demons," Nelo Angelo said.

"Are they all mean? None of them are nice to you?"

He stared at his son, feeling a growing trill of alarm. Nero's quick faith in the stranger he'd been entrusted to had rung as strange from the start, but he had assumed it was more out of necessity than ignorance. The possibility that he might not fully understand the danger of his position hadn't really sunk too deeply.

"They are cruel, and you shouldn't trust them," Nelo Angelo warned. "They would harm you without provocation, perhaps even kill you just to spite me."

The boy shrank back a bit, his easy smile dimming. "Oh," was all he said for a while. But the silence didn't last. "You really don't have any friends?"

Pity rather than fear laced the small voice, and Nelo Angelo was once again taken by surprise. Enough so that he felt the need to explain. "Relying on allies would only be a crutch. I am stronger on my own."

Nero's mouth twisted and his nose wrinkled in distaste. "Friends are good, though. Kyrie and Credo helped me out a lot when I needed it. Credo says you can do a lot more with some help than you can by yourself."

"That is how humans think. I am not a human," Nelo Angelo said.

His son was quiet again for a few heartbeats. "But I am," he replied quietly. And then he grinned, bright and warm as the sun. "So, I'll be your friend! I'll help you when you need it. That's what that big guy wants, right?"

Nelo Angelo shifted, armor plates grating against one another. This wasn't an entirely incorrect interpretation of Master Mundus' decree, but it certainly went far from the spirit of it. "This is unnecessary. You should be more concerned with your own wellbeing."

Silver brows tilted upward, and Nero stared at him. "But friends are _ good _. I think you should have one too. And besides, you're my dad so…"

There must have been more in his reaction than he meant to let on because Nero visibly withdrew, suddenly nervous and uncertain. "I'm sorry. Should I not call you Dad? What do you want me to call you?"

It was hard for him not to gawk. Nelo Angelo felt _ something _ unfurling inside at the sobriquet, but he didn't have an answer for Nero. A casual title shouldn't have affected him so.

"Is Papa better?" Nero rushed. "Or maybe Father or… or..." His little face scrunched up again, desperate.

"It's fine," Nelo Angelo blurted out. Nero's distress at expressing his affection properly knotted something cold inside that threatened to blot out the earlier warmth. "Any of those is fine." He shouldn't be encouraging this, should insist on formality to keep a respectable distance between them to protect them both, but he couldn't force himself to mind. In fact, his heart was giving the most peculiar flutter.

Nero's grin was back, if more shy. "Okay. Maybe… Dad?"

"If you wish." Nelo Angelo was startled by how thick his voice sounded.

_ "Father, Father! Look what I can do!" _

_ "Oh, that's very good, V----! Well done. Can you do it again for me?" _

He blinked repeatedly, startled by the unbidden scene that flashed before his eyes. Nelo Angelo rarely spared any thought for the weak being that he was before, but every now and then something bubbled to the surface to disrupt him. These murky fragments were always accompanied by excruciating pain and digging into them only made it far worse. But _ this _ was sharp and clear and painless like it was playing out in front of him at this very moment. 

"Okay, Dad! So, what do we do next?" 

Nelo Angelo's vision snapped back to the present, his son hopping to his feet and bouncing just a little on his toes in his enthusiasm. The snippet of memory faded back into the recesses of his mind, and Nelo Angelo decided he could pursue it later. Right now, his son needed him more.


	4. Family Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nero has opinions on sharing.

Demons didn't strictly need food, but that didn't mean that they didn't enjoy indulging in the pleasure from time to time, a fact which turned out to be very convenient for Nelo Angelo. The fire demon that had taken up the castle's old kitchen as its personal domain had a great love of human food and often bribed its fellows with decadent meals so they would bring more supplies from the Upperworld for it to experiment with. Since everyone had been privy to Nelo Angelo's… unique assignment, it wasn't difficult to extract a promise that food would regularly make its way to Nero even if Nelo Angelo himself was away on a mission.

Unfortunately, demons also weren't terribly good at recognizing the signs of ailment in a young human, and Nelo Angelo took much longer than he should have to realize that the amount of nourishment his son needed was steadily increasing as his level of fitness did. He'd been alarmed by how lethargic and weak the boy had become in the days he was gone handling Master's latest request, finding Nero curled up on the bed, small fists tucked in close around his aching stomach. He had immediately returned to the kitchen at the sight.

" _ More? _ " the fire demon asked incredulously. It scowled from out of the belly of the huge cast iron stove. "How can that little thing eat so much?"

Nelo Angelo said, "Master Mundus has instructed me to train him, and if I am to be successful, he needs to be in perfect physical health--"

"Aaagghhh! I don't need to hear this again," it huffed in a cloud of wood ash. "I don't have much for you now anyway, not until the others return from their scouting. Check the counter over there." The oven door snapped shut with a clang.

Nelo Angelo considered if he should raise the issue of insubordination but decided against it. The fire demon was useful, and if he were removed, it was likely no one would take his place -- at least not anyone who wasn't more interested in eating humans than feeding them.

A pleasantly clean sack cloth towel was spread over top one of the dented pewter platters that had been left in the castle by its former occupants, and Nelo Angelo lifted the edge to see what was on offer. He scowled in irritation. Just a half loaf of slightly stale bread, some cheese, and a few links of dried sausage. Hardly a meal fit for a growing warrior, but it would have to suffice.

He picked up the plate and headed for his--  _ their _ room. Several of the Marionettes started following along behind for reasons he couldn't, and didn't care to, guess. Odd things at the best of times, they often behaved in ways that seemed inexplicable to the greater demons whose actions were guided by higher thinking. Still, he didn't want them to make Nero uncomfortable when he was already feeling so poorly.

Nelo Angelo turned around at the top of the stairs and promptly kicked the closest one in the chest, watching it tumble down and take its fellows with it. The action was petty and yet satisfying. He would have to dissect that later. Right now, Nero needed him.

The boy was still hunched over in the center of the bed when he returned, and Nelo Angelo sat carefully at the edge. "Nero, I have food."

His son shook his head. "I'm not hungry. Don't feel good."

"You don't feel well  _ because  _ you are hungry," Nelo Angelo reasoned. The child was so stubborn. It reminded him of someone, but the thought was slippery. "You will feel better when you eat."

Nero's weary breath was muffled by the overstuffed pillow that Nelo Angelo had personally brought back from the human world to make the accommodations more comfortable for the boy. "I feel sick. Do I have to?"

His son looked  _ miserable _ , and it cinched a cord in Nelo Angelo's chest. "You must eat," he said sternly, and then cautiously added, "please."

Lifting his head, Nero studied him, searching a face that could scarcely resemble the human ones he would be used to reading. "...Okay. I'll try."

The boy sat up and accepted the plate, and Nelo Angelo realized with a start that Nero had grown. It had been two months now since Mundus' decree, an amount of time that had passed much more quickly than Nelo Angelo could possibly have imagined. Nero was taller and more fit, but he'd barely put on enough weight to accompany the changes. The fire demon would have to start keeping a much larger stock in the kitchen -- or perhaps Nelo Angelo needed to force his subordinates to divert their appetites to something that Nero couldn't consume to leave more for his son.

He blinked when a large hunk of bread in a small hand suddenly appeared in his downcast vision. "Is it not satisfactory?" he asked, wondering if perhaps the staleness was too unappealing.

"This is your share," Nero said.

"I don't need it," he reminded the boy, but Nero scowled at him.

"You  _ can _ eat. I saw you before."

This was, of course, true. "But I don't require it."

Nero rolled his eyes and heaved a big, exasperated sigh, gesturing emphatically with the bread. "You can save it for later if you don't need it now."

Nelo Angelo nearly answered that he certainly wouldn't need it later either, but the determination in the child's face was difficult to deny. His gauntleted fingers hovered over the food.

"It's  _ fair _ ," Nero asserted. He grabbed Nelo Angelo's hand, turning it over and placing the bread in the palm. "Even if you don't need it, you  _ like _ it, so you should have some too." 

Nelo Angelo stared for a long moment, first at the food and then at his now content son as he stuffed a chunk of cheese into his mouth. Fairness wasn't something that demons concerned themselves with, and they certainly didn't  _ share _ because of it. 

He thought back to the Marionettes and their unexplainable actions. Nero was far more mysterious. And yet…

The snap of the sausage as Nero bit into it caught his attention again. His son looked more energetic the more he ate. "These are good," Nero said, offering one of the untouched meats. Nelo Angelo hesitated only a moment before accepting it and taking a bite. The boy's warm smile loosened the cord in Nelo Angelo's chest again.

_ "Boys, it's time for lunch." _

_ "Com'on, V----, I'll race ya!" _

_ "I won't let you beat me, D----!" _

"Are you okay?" Nero's worried voice jolted him back to the present, and Nelo Angelo realized he'd been staring off into the middle distance. "Are you feeling sick? Maybe you need to eat more too."

"I'm fine," Nelo Angelo said quickly, hastily taking a bite of the bread. Despite being a little stale, it still had a good flavor, and he considered that he should offer some compliments to the fire demon for his baking skills. A little flattery might coax more preferential treatment.

The memory, though… Was that what it was? It had to be. Sitting at one end of a massive table meant to house a dozen guests and eating lovingly made sandwiches while bragging about what they'd discovered on the estate grounds. All while a woman smiled warmly at them. That smile was so much like Nero's--

Nelo Angelo shook his head to dispel the building ache. He needed to focus. There was no sense in dwelling on faded recollections, after all, not when he had Nero right here in front of him sharing a meal and beaming with pleasure. The small smile of his own was becoming a familiar thing, and he let it be. Certainly, he would need to confront the growing frequency and clarity of these memories, but there would be time for the past later.


	5. Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nelo Angelo remembers what it's like to be afraid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for brief torture and injury to a minor in this chapter. I don't think it's too graphic, but I don't want to surprise anyone. And if that warning isn't hint enough, we're getting into the angst portion of the story.

Nelo Angelo was puzzled. And he was eager. He was puzzled  _ because _ he was eager.

To return to Mallet Island of all things. In the past, he always relished the chance to go out and perform whatever tasks Master Mundus set before him, reveling in the freedom and the thrill of a challenging battle. But this time all he could think of while he was tracking a rogue demon attempting a coup against the Emperor was being done with the mission so he could hurry home.

_ Home _ .

No. If he was honest with himself, that wasn't quite right. What he really wanted was to get back to Nero and that quiet comfort he only felt when close to his son. It was nearly half a year since they'd first met and finding that he was almost addicted to that harmonious warmth should have bothered him more than it did -- even if it was constantly accompanied by those aggravatingly tantalizing glimpses of a former life.

It was all very puzzling, but the anticipation helped to quell the frustration that percolated inside him. Master Mundus wasn't going to be pleased with his news.

Nelo Angelo's quick steps took him to the audience hall, and he paused when he spotted a few demons lingering again at the door. Most of the minions weren't brave enough to creep into the master's presence unless they were specifically invited. It set his nerves humming even when they scuttled out of his way and back into the shadows. Trish, however, stayed where she was, her stolen face set into a rare serious expression.

"Master Mundus is waiting for you," she said, and the demoness spun on her heel to lead him inside. He hesitated before following.

Heavy steps clanking against polished tile, right up to the base of the stairs, Nelo Angelo strode as proudly as he could in Trish's wake. She stepped to the side while he knelt.

"Nelo Angelo," echoed his master's voice. "I am… disappointed."

The black angel grimaced inside his helmet, but he knew better than to jump immediately to his own defense, no matter how good his excuses.

"I sent you forth to vanquish my enemy, and yet you have returned before accomplishing your task. Why is this?"

Here was his chance to explain himself, and yet it felt like a trap. "Master, I attempted to fulfill your orders, but when I reached the edge of the Fire Hell, that scum's trail went cold. No amount of coercion would make her followers give me a location, so once I dispatched them, I returned to seek more information before--"

"You  _ failed _ , you mean."

Nelo Angelo stayed silent. If the truth wasn't enough for Master Mundus, then begging and pleading would only irritate him. It was strange, though, that he had moved so quickly onto a declaration of a failed mission. The Emperor usually preferred to draw things out before dispensing punishment.

Mundus sighed. "I expected better of you, my general. To give up the chase so quickly… I must wonder if you had other reasons for coming back to Mallet as soon as you could. Regardless, I must keep my promises."

Frowning, Nelo Angelo risked raising his head in his confusion.

"Let me go! I didn't do anything!"

The piping voice made Nelo Angelo flinch, and he watched in horror as Nero was dragged across the floor by a Fetish until the struggling boy was dumped right in front of Mundus.

"W-what do you want?" Nero tried to demand of the figure that dwarfed him. The child's legs were shaking so hard he could barely get to his feet. "I didn't do anything wrong."

Mundus ignored him. "I told you that you would not be the one to suffer the consequences of your failures," the Emperor said, and Nelo Angelo went still, barely daring to breathe.

Suddenly, the Fetish was grabbing Nero by the back of the neck and forcing him to the ground, using its gangly arms to keep the boy prone while he squirmed and shouted. This was not good, not at all. But what could Nelo Angelo do? This was Master's will.

"Trish," Mundus intoned, and the demoness looked up, sporting an oddly disturbed expression.

"...Yes, Master?" she asked.

"Punish the welp to remind his father of his duties."

She stared up at the divine figure for a few seconds, seeming to balk at the command. For a moment Nelo Angelo hoped Trish would refuse, but she stepped forward towards Nero's pinned form with a grim look that didn't belong on the borrowed face. Nelo Angelo couldn't speak. His vocal chords were frozen, and he wasn't entirely certain if it was Mundus' magic or his own body rebelling against this dread. 

The moment Trish brought down the electrically charged whip she manifested, Nero screamed high and long. It ended on a hiccupped gasp, shock registering on his round face. Another strike brought another cry, and Nelo Angelo couldn't move as he stared up at the grotesque tableau. A scent hit his nose after Trish began lashing in earnest.

Blood, Nero's blood, and he could smell the iron of it so strongly that a phantom taste lay across the back of his tongue. Burning cold radiated out and numbed his fingers and toes followed by a rapid thump in his chest that he almost didn't recognize as his own heartbeat. Vision disorientingly focused. Limbs quaking. Breath short. Paralyzed.

This… this was  _ fear _ . Had it been so long that he couldn't remember the sensation of being outmatched and under threat? But this was so different from anything he'd experience because the danger wasn't directed at himself. He was helpless to stop what was happening, and his son -- his poor, sunny child -- was suffering because of his failing, his weakness. Nero's screams filled his ears, echoing and building in the vast chamber until they overtook everything in his brain. 

"S-stop…" Nelo Angelo stuttered through his tight throat. The desperation felt like madness cracking open his chest. "Please… Master,  _ please! _ I won't fail you again, I swear! Just stop this! I beg you!"

"Trish," Mundus said, and the demoness mercifully halted. Nero's screams died down to whimpers. "I believe he has learned his lesson this time." Nelo Angelo could feel the satisfaction curling out from Mundus like smoke, and he knew without a doubt that he had doomed himself and his child. They would forever be controlled by this monster that hated their bloodline.

_ Blonde hair spread out on hardwood planks, soaked in congealed blood. The smell was so sharp it overpowered the stench of ash clogging his nostrils. He stopped at the edge of the crimson pool and bent down to touch his shaking fingertips to her motionless ones. She was still warm, but the house was empty.  _

_ "D-da---? Dan--?! Where are you?!" he screamed. The other boy didn't answer. _

_ Everything was gone. His family was dead. He was weak. He was alone. Ver--- ran and ran and ran. _

He sucked in a breath, blinking back the stifling memory before it could take over completely. The way he'd felt then, so helpless and terrified, was an eviscerating reflection of what gripped him now. Bending forward until his forehead touched the marble floor, Nelo Angelo realized he would do whatever he had to if it would mean this wretched, choking fear would never hold him so thoroughly again. He could never put Nero in such danger again.

"Forgive me, Master. I will do all that you ask of me, but may I treat his wounds before I return to my service?" he pleaded.

Smugly, Mundus acquiesced. "I will allow it. We cannot have our future servant permanently damaged because of his father's shortcomings, after all."

Nelo Angelo grit his teeth. "You are most gracious, Master. I thank you for your forgiveness of this unworthy retainer."

Carefully, he moved up the steps and gathered Nero into his arms. He could feel the fragile child shaking, but Nero clung to him tightly the entire way out of the audience chamber, through the halls with lurking demons, and up into the safety of their room. The silence dug into Nelo Angelo more deeply than any devil's claws ever could, and Nero held himself still on the bed while his father cleaned and bandaged the injuries to his back.

Both the boy's passivity and his shredded skin were distressing. If Nero had more demon blood, he would already be mostly healed by now. The understanding of his son's comparative fragility juxtaposed with Mundus' cruelty troubled Nelo Angelo in ways that he didn't think were possible. New worries, new things to obsess over. New fears.

At least the bleeding had stopped.

"I hate him," Nero whispered while Nelo Angelo secured another strip of bandages, and the knight paused. "He hurt me just to hurt you, didn't he?"

"Yes," Nelo Angelo admitted.

"That's not fair."

"No, it's not."

"I  _ hate _ him," Nero reiterated. "I don't wanna work for him when I get older."

Nelo Angelo finished dressing the wounds and let his hands fall. His son's declaration left him conflicted. Disobeying Master Mundus would only lead to more pain and suffering for the boy, but…

But.

Beside his corrosive fear, still churning and eating away something inside him, Nelo Angelo felt a spark of anger toward his master. What had been done wasn't something Nelo Angelo could live with. What had been done would certainly happen again the next time Nelo Angelo didn't perform up to Mundus' exacting standards. What had been done... could  _ not _ be forgiven. 

Nero turned around and looked up at him with teary blue eyes, and his son climbed into his lap without reservation, settling in against the hard armor plates like it was the most comfortable spot in the room. Short arms curled around his torso in a show of affection and a silent request for comfort. Very carefully, the black angel wrapped his child into an embrace.

"I don't want him to hurt you anymore," Nero said quietly.

And, oh how the tiny flame of discontent inside Nelo Angelo did burn. He would not forget anymore.


	6. Protection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nelo Angelo makes a decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another warning for injury to a minor, possibly slightly more graphic than the last one. Poor Nero is having a rough go of it.

Three weeks.  _ Three weeks _ hunting that renegade demon through the seediest, most vile areas of the Underworld. It was likely he would never quite get the mire from the infernal swamp out of the recesses of his armor but cutting her down had been gratifying in the end. Nelo Angelo tossed her head into the space near his master's feet and knelt.

"It is done, Master Mundus," he said. "As you ordered."

"Good," Mundus purred. " _ Very _ good. Your persistence and brutality in dealing with this…  _ traitor _ will be a warning to all who have the notion to oppose me. I am pleased."

Nelo Angelo dipped his helmed head. He didn't want to appear as anxious as he truly was. "Thank you, Master."

"You may go now," Mundus said, but there was a note of perverse amusement tainting the deep voice. "Return to your little pet so you may continue his training. I am expecting great things from him in the future."

An icy prickle swept over Nelo Angelo's skin, and he could only find a threat in that statement. "By your leave, my master," he choked out.

Keeping his gait slow and steady to hide the ferment roiling in his gut, Nelo Angelo left the audience chamber and immediately made his way toward the Castellan's bedroom. He wondered if he should stop by the kitchen first to make sure Nero had something to eat, but his patience was thin, and he was more than ready to be in his son's balmy presence again.

He had spent the first week of his sojourn fretting about Nero's condition when a missive arrived from a very surprising source. Trish. She had taken the time to check on Nero and documented his recovery in detail over successive messages, something that initially worried Nelo Angelo. He had feared she was monitoring his son at the behest of Mundus, but some of her commentary was astoundingly affectionate. It carried notes of genuine concern for Nero's wellbeing and even included the steps she'd taken to assure his quick and comfortable convalescence.

For all that her behavior confused him, Nelo Angelo was deeply grateful. Perhaps not enough to be fooled into considering the demoness an ally, but he would be more than willing to offer her the favor of her choice in compensation.

There would be time to negotiate all that later, however. Right now, he wanted more than anything to be welcomed home by his son. Perhaps they could take a break today and enjoy each other's company. Or they could go outside for a while to get Nero some fresh air and sun which, as he understood it, was very good for--

He stopped dead in his tracks and stared at the partially open door. Somehow, he knew that Nero wasn't inside even before pushing it the rest of the way open. "Nero?" he called. But there was no response.

_ "D-dan--? Dan--?! Where are you?!"  _ The memory spiked his fear until it was a drumbeat in his head, thundering along with his pulse.

This felt wrong. He had impressed upon Nero the importance of staying in the room when his father wasn't around, and Trish had made certain that an increased amount of food was being sent to him throughout the day. Nelo Angelo had even brought a large stack of books from the library to entertain him before leaving again on his mission, so there should have been no reason for Nero to venture out.

Retreating into the hall, Nelo Angelo pried his helmet off and canted his head. He strained his ears listening for any sounds that might tell him where his son had gone. The oppressive silence of Mallet's castle was disturbed only by the faint scuffing of demons on patrol, but there was something down the other path…

Nero's cry shattered the leery calm, and Nelo Angelo bolted towards it. His heart hammered against his ribs as if driving the panic of what he might find ever deeper into his core. The scream cut off abruptly, but a muffled, mewling sob was loud enough to alert him he was close enough to skid around the corner and find his terrified little boy.

And there Nero was, backed into a corner, legs pulled up tight to protect his sluggishly bleeding arm, clothing shredded from shoulder to navel by the demon that loomed menacingly over him.

"Phantom!" Nelo Angelo barked. "Not one step closer!"

The magmatic spider paused with one spike-tipped appendage hovering where he'd been poking at Nero's injured side. "Oh, you're back? That's too bad," the demon said. "I caught this little thing running around here and just couldn't resist. Didn't realize what it was until I caught it."

"That's a lie!" Nero cried. His voice cracked in fear. "I was in the room, like you said, and these spiders came out from under the door and jumped on me! I… I couldn't fight 'em--"

"They must've been curious about you. You smell like food," Phantom said, barbed leg brushing against Nero's shin and making the boy shriek.

" _ Enough _ ," Nelo Angelo growled. "He is my responsibility and a future servant of Master Mundus. You will do him no further harm, or I will be forced to intervene."

The massive demon's laugh was ugly, and it slowly, deliberately, pressed the sharp end of its foot hard into Nero's bleeding side. Nelo Angelo could smell the human flesh starting to cook from the heat of the spider's body. "What are you going to do?" Phantom taunted over Nero's pained screaming. "Kill me?"

_ "Foolishness, Dan--, foolishness. Might controls everything, and without strength, you cannot protect anything. Let alone yourself." _

The sudden memory rattled through his heart. Those were his own words, said to another in spite and mockery, but here he was just watching his child be tortured. Fury turned the world red.

Without another thought, Nelo Angelo darted forward and sliced off the offending leg, bringing his sword up through the joint where he knew the demon's limbs were weakest. Phantom staggered back, and fortunately none of the lava pouring out of the stump managed to get on Nero, falling to sizzle on the floor instead.

"Y-you bastard--!" Phantom started, but Nelo Angelo didn't give it the chance to say any more.

In a flicker, the black angel was in the air above the demon, letting his full armored weight plunge him downward to drive his sword straight through Phantom's vulnerable back. The spider thrashed and gurgled, but Nelo Angelo shoved the blade further down until it scraped against the stone floor. "Die, scum," he hissed.

Phantom's writhing slowed and finally ceased, the great beast going still and its body's molten glow fading. Nelo Angelo only came out of his rage fueled fugue when Phantom started to crumble into ash. And then the realization struck.

He'd just killed one of the Emperor's oldest and most trusted servants, a fellow general. This wouldn't go unnoticed, or unpunished, which would mean--

"Nero, can you stand?" Nelo Angelo asked. He set his sword onto his back and hurried to the boy's side.

"I-I don't…" Nero's shaky legs threatened to send him sprawling on the ground again, so Nelo Angelo scooped him up. "I'm sorry. I tried to fight them off, Dad, like you taught me, but I couldn't… I'm sorry!"

"Don't be," he soothed, laying his palm along the back of Nero's shoulders. "I know you did your best."

Nelo Angelo stared at the pile of debris that was all that remained of Phantom, mouth taught and unsure of what action to take. He had no regrets about slaying a monster that had been threatening his son. If it came down to it, he would fight every demon on the island. He  _ would _ protect Nero, no matter the cost to himself, but the question now was what to do next?

"Dad…" Nero said quietly, sadly. "I don't want you to get in trouble again, okay? Just tell them it was my fault."

His breath caught, lungs refusing to obey, and Nelo Angelo held Nero a little tighter. He could feel the shivers wracking his son's tiny form, so light in his arms, and came to a decision. "Nero, I need you to do  _ exactly _ as I say," Nelo Angelo ordered. "Can you do that?"

Big eyes peered up at him under furrowed brows, but Nero nodded. "Yeah. I can do that."

"Good," he said firmly and started walking. "It's time for us to go. Together."


	7. Free Space

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vergil finally goes home.

Nelo Angelo strode forward purposefully, chin up and helmetless face carefully blank. The two demons lazing around in front of the strange mirror scrambled to their feet at his approach. "Master Mundus has requested that I go to the human world to retrieve an artifact he is in need of," he said imperiously.

The demons looked at each other. "We didn't hear anythin' about that," one said.

"Yeah! No one told us!" confirmed the other.

"And yet here I am. Telling you  _ now _ ," Nelo Angelo sneered. He held out a scrap of paper with coordinates written on it and maintained his scowl while the two bent their heads to look. They scratched their horns and exchanged confused glances. "Is there a reason for this display of incompetence?" he prodded. "I have a task to perform, and the delay is rapidly becoming intolerable."

The gate guardian sniffed indignantly. "Yeah, yeah. Keep yer greaves on,  _ General _ . We gotta calibrate the portal. Unless you want to end up in the middle of nowhere in the human world."

He waited, watching the pair murmur incantations and skimming clawed fingers over the runes on the frame -- while  _ not _ glancing anxiously over his shoulder at the shadowed hallway that led to the chamber. A snap of energy and a burst of ozone scent signaled the gate's opening, and Nelo Angelo breathed a sigh of relief when he saw a narrow, dimly lit alley on the other side.

"There ya go," one of the gatekeepers said with a needle filled grin.

"Maybe bring us back a nice, fat human, yeah? One o' the ones that'll never be missed," the second piped up with a snicker.

"Excellent. Master Mundus thanks you for your service," Nelo Angelo said. And promptly decapitated them both with a single swing of his sword.

He didn't wait for their corpses to finish dispersing before he was darting back towards the hall. "Nero, hurry," he whispered. They wouldn't have much time now. Mundus would feel the unauthorized opening of a portal to the human realm and would no doubt be dispatching someone to investigate.

His son's shorter legs didn't allow for much speed and with his hastily bound injuries from Phantom, the boy was even slower than normal. Nelo Angelo swept him up when he heard the scrape of feet moving, spinning around to face the gate and stopping cold.

Trish leaned against the portal's structure. "I wouldn't have expected this from you," she said calmly. "Or at least, I wouldn't have six months ago."

He grit his teeth and twisted to shield Nero from her view. With her electrical powers, she could strike at a range, so Nero wouldn't be safe anywhere in the room. Nelo Angelo reached for the hilt of his sword he'd thoughtlessly returned to his back. "I won't let you stop me," he warned.

"I wasn't going to."

Bewildered, his hand hovered over his weapon. This was curious. "Then why are you here?"

"She's my friend," Nero said, and Nelo Angelo blinked at his sweet, smiling face. "We're going away. You should come too, Trish!"

That was not part of the plan. She was an unknown, a loyal supporter of Mundus, one of his  _ creations _ , and therefore an enormous risk. However, she  _ had _ looked after Nero while he was hurt, and the boy clearly trusted her. Nelo Angelo hesitated, but Trish answered for him.

"If only it were that easy," she said. A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "This particular gate isn't terribly friendly to my kind. The two of you have ties to the human world through your blood, but I'm a demon. Weak ones can sometimes get through. I, though, don't consider myself so powerless as to take the risk."

"Oh," Nero said, face falling.

"Besides, you'll need someone to run a bit of interference so they don't come find you right away." Now Trish was smirking. She pushed off the frame and sashayed past them with a little wave.

Nelo Angelo watched her cautiously, half turned. "He'll kill you for this."

"Only if he finds out," she said. "And who knows? Maybe I'll find my own way to the Upperworld before then. See you around, sweetie."

The echo of her stiletto heels faded down the corridor before Nelo Angelo could pull himself together again. "We… We need to go," he said, adjusting his hold on his son. Nero wrapped his short arms contentedly around his neck in response.

"Are we going to Fortuna?"

"No. We're going somewhere… with family."

Nelo Angelo stepped through the gate before he could second guess himself, shivering from the pins and needles that prickled across his skin under the heavy armor. He could feel Nero shudder against him and pulled the boy a little closer. The portal closed behind them. Now there truly was no going back.

This place… Nelo Angelo knew this place. The dingy nighttime alley, the faded signs of demonic damage, the feather light feel of someone familiar, like a spider silk thread he could almost touch. He had passed through this place long ago, in another life, but it had enough meaning to stay with him when everything else was peeled away. A tower had risen on this spot, punching a hole into the demon world and making the veil just thin enough for direct transit. Apparently, the humans had removed all traces of it before building new structures to cover the destruction and erase whatever painful memories might have been carved by the event.

The other boy from his memories was here, but not the woman. Nelo Angelo could almost see them if he strained hard enough.

"It's cold," Nero complained, and Nelo Angelo realized that his son was certainly not dressed for the chillier weather of this continent. He tucked his cape around his son as best he could.

"Then let us hurry," he said.

Following the familial thread through the neighborhood, cautiously keeping to the shadows where humans feared to look, Nelo Angelo began to feel the touch of exhaustion that always crept into his bones when he was forced to leave Mundus' side and the demon world. The air was crisper, more  _ alive _ , but breathing brought him less energy than he was used to. Nero, however, seemed increasingly more alert and livelier. It was a worthy trade off.

"Where are we going?" Nero asked again after they'd traveled some distance.

"Not much farther. Right there, in fact." Nelo Angelo nodded toward the building across the street with the bright neon sign.

"Devil… May… Cry?" Nero looked up at him. "That doesn't sound very nice. They won't hurt you, will they?"

That was a question he didn't know the answer to. A painful, wavering memory of clashing swords and shared blood spilled in selfishness made his jaw clench. This time the ache was in his heart and not his head, but there was one thing he felt certain of. "He won't hurt  _ you _ ."

The road was thankfully deserted at this time of night, but light still spilled out of the windows from the shop, so Nelo Angelo hurried across the open space and gently set Nero down on the lowest step leading up to the doors. He reached for the heavy brass handles but found his hand trembling.

Was this the right choice? Was this dubious remembrance enough to stake the life of his son on? And yet he felt it down into his marrow that the presence behind this threshold was another half of himself, not a stranger, not a threat. There was very little choice left regardless.

Before he could steel his resolve, the door burst open with a crash, smacking hard against the outside of the building and revealing a man in startling red. White hair. Blue eyes. A face that made Nelo Angelo's mind reel in agony as recollection fought against the crushing weight of Mundus' influence.

"You picked the wrong place to mess with," said the red man, and he kicked Nelo Angelo squarely in the chest. The knight tumbled down the stairs and onto the sidewalk with a grunt. "I'm really not in the mood to play tonight, so let's just get this over with quick."

"Wait--!" Nelo Angelo rolled to the side just in time to avoid being impaled by a claymore with a screaming skull on its guard. His head was throbbing just at the sight of it, so much that he could barely focus his vision.

"Sorry, buddy, but it's been a long day, and having a demon on my doorstep hasn't made it any nicer," growled the man. He pulled back the sword for a cleaving strike when he jolted forward. "What the…!"

Nero bit the man's ear, clinging to his back with ferocious tenacity. "You leave my dad alone!"

The red man yelped in surprise and reached around to seize Nero's shirt, dragging him off. The boy dangled in front of his shocked face. "What are you-- Did you just say 'dad'?"

"Dante…" Nelo Angelo whispered. He wanted to claw his own skull apart to stop the agony of that name. It was there, on the tip of his thoughts, everything that he couldn't grasp. It  _ hurt, _ but it was all he wanted.

Dante stared down at him for a long moment with a flailing Nero still held securely but gently in his grip. "Vergil…?" he whispered.

It struck like a cannonball, bursting a crumbling barrier inside Nelo Angelo's brain. His breath stoppered in his throat. His vision slipped to the past, memories flooding out and consuming him whole.

_ "Vergil… Dante… Happy Birthday." _

_ "Wow! Cool!" _

_ "I want chocolate!!" _

_ "No, I want chocolate!!" _

Hands grasped his shoulders to pull him back to the present, and Vergil gasped for air. He'd been drowning since he fell from Temen-ni-gru and the new clarity was needle sharp in his brain. Nero had his small fingers wrapped around the sharp edge of a pauldron, making Vergil want to scold him lest he be cut by the metal, but Dante was kneeling right in front of him.

"It really is you," Dante said. "You're back. And you have a  _ kid _ !" He laughed until there were tears in his eyes and looped an arm around a very surprised Nero. "This… this is the best birthday ever!"

"Birthday?" Vergil blinked, wondering if his memory had somehow bled over into reality.

"Yeah, bro. Did you forget?" Dante's grin wobbled on the edge of hysteria, but Vergil could feel the joy transmitted from the hand that cupped the back of his head.

The truth was that he had forgotten everything, even his own name. No, that wasn't right. It had been  _ stolen _ from him. Mundus had torn Vergil out of him to make Nelo Angelo into a perfect, obedient slave. Every last scrap of himself was taken away by the one who had murdered his mother, ending his childhood at the tender age of 8.

It was Nero's presence and unconditional love that started to unravel the tortured knot around his old self, but his twin finally tore the last of it away and set him free.

Dante's smile softened as Vergil just sat there, unable to speak for himself. "Hey, I don't know what happened yet," his little brother said, "but it's gonna be okay. You're safe-- you're  _ both _ safe now. I'll look after you."

"You're my dad's brother?" Nero said, not quite incredulous but not quite believing either.

"Sure am, kid!" The boy froze when Dante pressed their foreheads together affectionately before pulling back to address Vergil. "I've got a billion questions, but let's get you inside before someone calls the cops about a weirdo wearing a Halloween costume out of season."

Hooking his arms under Vergil's, Dante hauled him up to his feet and held onto his bicep to guide his twin up the steps, as if Vergil was incapable of doing it himself. Or perhaps it was to make sure he didn't try to flee back into hell again. He glanced down at the feel of Nero's little hand slipping into his.

The boy looked tired and ragged from the frantic escape, but Nero beamed that warm, unrestrained smile up at him. "Is this home now?" his son asked. "Will we live here? I like it better than the castle."

Dante didn't comment, but his eyes danced with familiar light and humor. He swept a hand out to indicate the interior of his musty, messy shop and raised an eyebrow in challenge. It was an offering freely given, and a prick of intricate longing struck Vergil hard.

There were complexities to this, to  _ any _ arrangement they might make with Dante. Having to beg forgiveness for his past cruelty, for forcing his brother to strike him down, and disclosing all the intervening years of slavery would be difficult. Apologies and explanations and weighty history loomed large in his brother's shadow, but just at this one singular moment in time… Vergil didn't care.

He cleared his throat and felt a lightness in his chest, lifting him out of the darkness that had smothered him for so long.

"Yes, Nero," he said, closing the door behind them. "We're home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, I know that 'Free Space' on those prompt cards is supposed to just be whatever you want to write about (I think), but it worked for this. I wanted to leave it a bit open ended, but I figure that Vergil will recover his full strength (and a bit more because he'll push himself to protect his sweet little son), and eventually Mundus will track them down again to cause trouble. Dante and Vergil will head off to Mallet Island, though, and put an end to things. I'm a bit torn on whether Trish will run off before that or if our girl will pull a double cross on Mundus at the most dramatic moment.
> 
> But that's it! That's all I've got for this one. I hope you all enjoyed it, and thank you so much for reading!


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